Malfoys Don't Cry
by Zenya
Summary: Draco muses about his life, his family, and Voldemort, on the quidditch pitch. R/R


Disclaimers: Not mine, J.K. Rowling's. The song at the beginning ("Wish (komm zu mir)") isn't mine either.   
  
A/N: Reviews are welcome, and feel free to flame, because I don't think I like this fic either.   
  
A/N #2: That isn't the whole song; if you want to read the lyrics for the entire song, go here- http://starlit.org/runlolarun/soundtrack.html   
A/N #3: // indicates Draco's memories.   
  
MALFOYS DON'T CRY   
  
I wish I was a hunter in search of different food  
I wish I was the animal which fits into that mood  
I wish I was a person with unlimited breath  
I wish I was a heartbeat that never comes to rest  
  
Komm zu mir  
Komm zu mir  
Komm zu mir  
Komm zu mir  
  
I wish I was a stranger who wanders down the sky  
I wish I was a starship in silence flying by  
I wish I was a princess with armies at her hand  
I wish I was a ruler who'd make them understand  
I wish I was a writer who sees what's yet unseen  
I wish I was a prayer expressing what I mean  
I wish I was a forest of trees that do not hide  
I wish I was a clearing no secrets left inside  
  
Ich brauch Dich doch auch nicht mehr als Du mich  
Ich brauch Dich doch auch nicht mehr als Du mich  
Ich brauch Dich doch auch nicht mehr als Du mich  
Ich brauch Dich doch auch nicht mehr  
  
  
Draco Malfoy walked to the edge of the quidditch pitch and sighed. He had heard from one of his Slytherine dorm mates that the house elves had out done themselves tonight, but he wanted no part in the meal. Draco wanted to be anywhere but the great hall at that moment. He didn't think he would be able to stand being around all the smiling, happy, oblivious people- it was too risky.  
  
Draco was afraid that if he saw anything happy, or innocent, he might burst into tears- tears that would never stop. All he wanted was to cry the tears he had never cried when he was younger, because of one very important rule- Malfoys. Don't. Cry.   
Draco's father had instilled this principle into him when he was very young. He remembered very clearly the first time he had heard these words.   
  
//It was early spring, the first nice day of the spring season, and Draco couldn't have been happier. It was his sixth birthday, and all his friends had been allowed to come to Malfoy manor to celebrate his birthday with him. It had been a great party so far; Draco and his friends had played pin the beard on Merlin, hide and seek (with invisibility cloaks), and stuffed themselves with chocolate frogs and an extravagant birthday cake. Everyone was having a great time- until it was time to open presents.  
  
The first present Draco opened was from his longtime (longtime for a five year old) friend Vincent Crabbe.   
  
"Wow, Vince, this is great!" Draco exclaimed, after opening a box containing a poster of his favorite quidditch team.   
  
After unwrapping several presents from his father, he became slightly disappointed. Draco's father had bought him all dark magic items so far. Draco wasn't particularly interested in the dark arts. All he really knew about was that a lot of people seemed to die, when performing dark arts. Draco knew that his father and his father's friends seemed to like the dark arts a lot, and he knew he didn't want them to die because of dark magic.   
  
Draco became a lot happier when he opened his first gift from his mother. It was oddly shaped package, wrapped in bright silver paper.   
  
"Now Draco, be careful when you use this gift." His mother had said sternly, before he opened it. "It's not something you can use lightly."  
  
Eager with anticipation, Draco unwrapped the parcel to find a shiny new nimbus 1000 broomstick. Draco's eye widened with surprise and happiness. He had always wanted a broomstick, sure, his toy broomstick was fine, but it only rose a few feet off the ground, but his new, real broomstick could really fly.   
  
"T-thanks mum!" Draco chocked out. "I can't wait to fly it." Draco's mother looked at her son with pride. He was becoming a fine young boy; she only hoped that he stayed that way. Unfortunately, she knew that was a strong chance that he would become immersed in the dark arts- like her family, friends and husband, especially with the helping hand of his father guiding him on the path to darkness.   
  
"Well, let's see you fly it then!" Vince exclaimed, interrupting Draco's mother from her thoughts.   
  
"Yes, I've always wondered if Lucius's son would be a future quidditch player." Said the slick, oily voice of one of Draco's father's friends, which were also present at the party.   
  
Nervously, Draco gripped the broomstick. He couldn't do this- not with all those people watching. At that moment, Draco saw, out of the corner of his eye, his father glaring maliciously at him, and he knew he had no choice. Either mount the broom, or suffer the consequences. Well, he would already be suffering the consequences for hesitating...   
  
Draco slowly walked to the middle of the courtyard and mounted his new broom. Cautiously, he took off, jerkily rising higher and higher until he was level with the tops of the trees. Filled with fear, Draco look down and saw his father glaring at him again.   
  
Resignedly, Draco took a deep breath, and zoom around the tops of the trees. This wasn't so bad, it was even a tiny bit fun, he thought. Then, when he went into the first dive of his life, Draco lost his balance and fell of his broom.   
  
Unhurt, but quite shaken, Draco, also for the first time in his young life, broke the Malfoy code of conduct, and burst into tears.   
  
Draco's mother quickly ran over to him, to see if he was hurt, but just as quickly, his father was at his side as well. Shaking with anger, Draco's father took him by the arm and led him away from the crowd to a patch of trees on the edge of the yard.   
  
"Don't you ever, ever do that again." Draco's father's voice was deadly quiet.  
  
"But-"  
  
"No buts! There is no excuse for your behavior. Have I taught you nothing boy? I thought I tried to be a good father and teach you how to act, and teach you the Malfoy family values, but apparently, you've learned nothing from me."   
  
He started pacing angrily, while Draco stared up at him in fear and astonishment. "How many times do I have to tell you, never show weakness? Never back down from a fight. Never get mixed up with mudbloods. Never embarrass me in front of my colleges, and never, ever cry." Draco's father snarled. Do want everyone to know how weak you are?" he continued.   
  
By this time, Draco had stopped crying. He had stopped feeling anything at all. The only thing he knew, was that he could never be weak again, never let his father down.//  
  
Draco stopped the memory abruptly- he couldn't go around remembering like this, he had much more important things to think about. A few days before Draco was due back at Hogwarts, his father had approached him, wanting to talk about the "family business."   
  
//Draco was in his room, trying to avoid his father. Unfortunately, his father ruined this plan when he barged into the room.  
  
"Draco, he started in, we need to talk."  
  
Draco looked up at his father, wearing his usual detached expression. The only facial expression that didn't get him in trouble.   
  
"As that bumbling fool Dumbledore probably told you, our lord has returned."  
  
Our lord? Draco thought to himself, since when am I included in this little religion of evil?   
  
"Thanks to 'the boy who never should have lived' he will be stronger than ever. Draco's father continued, a mixture of fierce pride, and terror in his voice. Until he has returned to full strength, he will need some extra- help. That's where you come in."  
  
Draco sighed to himself. He wished his father would get to the point, even though he knew "the point" was not going to be pretty.   
  
"What do I have to do?" Draco finally asked, trying to keep his voice even.  
  
"You boy, are one of the luckiest brats around right now. His father continued. You have the privilege of becoming an undercover death eater- thanks to me of course. Normally one does not become a death eater until they turn eighteen. Lucky for you, your chance has come now."  
  
Gee father, did it ever occur to you that you are the bumbling fool? Did it ever cross your excuse of a mind that I hate you, and the "family business?" That I don't want to be evil and I don't want to grow up to be you? His inner voice piped up again.   
  
Draco was abruptly brought back to reality by a sharp slap across his face. "You better be paying attention boy, because if you screw this up, you won't get the opportunity to screw anything else up again- I'll see to that." His voice had dropped sinisterly low.   
  
"Fine father, just let me know what I have to do, and when, and I'll do it." Draco said impassively, regressing back to the role of obedient son, as he watched his father leave the room. Draco had received death threats from his father before, but this time he knew his father was deadly serious.   
  
Suddenly, Draco heard a crash from downstairs. His mother was drunk again.//  
***  
  
Draco watched jealously as a golden leaf blew across the pitch. The leaf was free and beautiful, without a care in the world. It had no unreasonable demands placed upon it, no expectations, no hurt, no anger and no sorrow, no nothing. It was just free. 


End file.
